In Which Blaine And His Dad Talk
by HeronRainwater
Summary: Blaine's father has never been particularly accepting of him, and he offers his two cents after the events of "The Break-Up". (Couldn't think of a good title. I'll change it when I do).


"What's wrong?" Blaine startled, tearing his eyes from the spot of carpet he'd been silently staring at for the best part of twenty minutes. His father had been sat in the chair across from him for just as long, but until now he hadn't so much as glanced up from his paper.

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked, an abysmal attempt at a smile flickering across his face.

"You're being quiet," His father pointed out. "Something happen at school?" _Since when did you care what happens at school?_ _You didn't so much as blink when I told you I'd won Senior Class President._

"No, sir," He shook his head. _Not this time, anyway. _

"Then _what_, Blaine? You can't expect me to read your mind. You know, Cooper never kept anything from us when he was your age. He was never anywhere near as withdrawn as you are." _No, of course he wasn't. Not Cooper; Cooper can do no wrong. _

"I…" He bit his lip nervously, dropping his eyes to the carpet once more. "I think we broke up."

"You and that boy?"

"Kurt," Blaine nodded, "His name's Kurt. But I don't even _know_ if we have, he won't talk to me. I messed up, dad, I might've ruined things with him _forever_, and I don't even know because he won't answer my calls, and-"

"Blaine. It was always just a silly high school romance, it's not like you've messed up your entire future." _It's not a 'silly high school romance'. I loved him. I still love him. I'm always going to love him. I was supposed to marry him one day and now I've screwed it all up_.

"If you felt that way about it, why did you let me transfer to be with him?"

"You're an Anderson, Blaine; there's nothing stopping you once you've made your mind up. But, honestly? Your mother and I were hoping you'd come to your senses if you were back in public school, that'd you'd get over _that boy_-"

"_Kurt_."

"_Don't interrupt me_. And look at me when I'm talking to you." Blaine looked up, meeting his father's glare.

"Sorry, sir."

"Really, Blaine, maybe this is for the best. I'm sure your mother will agree with me." _She won't. Mom has no problem with Kurt. She has no problem with me being me. She's just too afraid to tell you. _

"Yes, sir."

"And maybe it's about time you got over this… this _phase_." _It's not a phase, dad. _"I thought you'd have seen that after the incident at that ridiculous dance you went to, but I let you…_ continue_ with it. And that summer, when you helped me rebuild that car, I thought that would've put an end to it." _Getting beaten up in a parking lot and getting my hands dirty isn't going to make me turn straight overnight, dad. _"Your mother insisted that Dalton would work, and I took her word for it. Maybe if you'd stayed there, if we hadn't let you follow that boy to a slightly below average public school, it might've worked." _Yes, dad, sending me to an all boys' boarding school is going to make a difference._

"Maybe, sir."

"You understand me, don't you Blaine? You know it's just a phase?" _I'm gay. I'm always going to be gay._

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Mr. Anderson nodded once, almost to himself, and got to his feet. "I have a meeting with a client I need to get to; you'll be alright on your own for a few hours, won't you?"

"Yes, I'll be fine." His father nodded again. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it and left without a word. Blaine sighed, ran a hand through his currently un-gelled hair and delved in his pocket with his free hand for his phone. He pressed call and waited, counting the ringing sounds until the automated message played and the beep sounded.

"Hey, it's… it's me again. I know you don't want to talk to me right now. And I know I should stop calling and leave you alone, but… I'm _really_ sorry, Kurt. I miss you, _so_ much, and… I love you. I'm always going to love you. I'm sorry." Blaine released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He stared at his phone and shook his head to himself, erasing the message with a sniff. He dropped the phone in his lap and hid his face in his hands.


End file.
